Falter, Fumble, Fracture, Fall
by MiaGhost
Summary: In battle, a single moment's hesitation can be disastrous.
1. Falter

_**(A/N):** Hey. Welp..._  
 _I... I have no idea what I'm doing with this one guys, but the Sabriel is still going strong apparently. This is what happenes when my brain wants to do literally anything but research for a fourth-year Uni project._  
 _There might be more to come. Maybe. I'm sorry._

* * *

 _~.~_

 _"Gabriel!"_

He wobbled, a faltered step backwards, swaying on his feet as a startled surprise splashed across his face. From across the room Sam saw the blood pushing through his fingers to fall, and when Sam reached his side Gabriel crumpled into his arms.

There was so much blood. So very much of it, pooling in Gabriel's hands and making them look so small. His face turned up towards Sam as he was lowered to the ground, and his eyes were round and clear, like sunlight filtering through amber. They were filling with a fear that clawed at Sam's heart.

One hand, the one not trying to hold all the seeping blood to his chest, reached desperately for Sam.

"Gabriel." Sam's voice was hushed, disbelieving, frightened. "Gabe, don't do this, not this, please."

The sound broke, the crack in Sam's expression as the true realisation of the moment crept into him. Gabriel's fingers clenched involuntarily in his sleeve, the movement dragging a sharp, unsure gasp from him. Sam pushed his arm further around his friend's shoulder, held him up further, closer, the space between them sending terrible fears into his blood.

If Gabriel went, if he _left_ like this they would always have a gulf between them.

"Sa-am?"

"Oh God, Gabriel don't. _Please_ don't, don't go." Sam's voice was a sob that swallowed his air.

He moved his sleeve in Gabriel's grip, slid fingers between his instead. He squeezed.

"Hang on Gabriel, please." he whispered, before tearing his gaze from the face below his, from the terror that was growing in Gabriel's eyes.

Sam tipped his face heavenward and drew in a wet breath, tears beginning to collect and cascade down his cheeks.

"Cas, we need you. He's dying, Cas. Help us, _please_."

He ducked his head down as he was overtaken by his tears, pressing his forehead against Gabriel's, feeling the searing heat of the other man's skin burning into him. Gabriel's eyelids were dropping, looking heavy. Sam's heart was rushing his blood hard and fast as he pressed their joined hands against the bloody wound, applying pressure as despair shredded their defences.

"Don't die, Gabe. Don't die." he rasped, words breaking, cracking, falling.

"Sam…" Gabriel's voice was breathy, unstable, ever-gentle.

"Gabe."

"Sam… _love you_."

"Don't. Don't do that, don't do this, _please_."

Gabriel's eyes opened slowly, tired, dimming. It looked like it took so much effort. There was so much _blood_. He looked blearily up at Sam, across the distance of their noses.

"S'true."

"Gods, Gabriel." Sam pleaded, before brushing their mouths together, "Stay, _please_."

Gabriel arched into the contact weakly, his mouth soft and gentle and tasting of blood and grit and under it all _sugar_. Sam's heart hurt and he kissed him, wishing fiercely that he'd done so long ago, that they'd had more time.

" _I love you too._ "

Gabriel didn't open his eyes when Sam drew back again, but there was a small shift of his mouth that looked like a smile. His breathing was growing weak and fluttery, gurgled rasps. Sam held him tightly and pretended it wasn't a sign of what he knew it was. He knelt there with Gabriel and all the blood and he watched him through his tears, watched how it all drained from him, how the colour dulled and waned and his energy faded.

He wished for the laughter back. He needed to see that mischievous sparkle, needed the sound of Gabriel's gleeful announcements. He wanted to continue hating the way the shorter man toyed with his name, wanted more of their bickering, needed to argue over the candy wrappers and the way his coffee had a habit of disappearing.

Disappearing like the light rose he so loved to see in Gabriel's cheeks.

Sam _ached_ for it all.

A shadow fell over them both.

"Sam."

Relief was a chilling wash that flooded and over-whelmed his senses.

"Hey, Cas."

~.~


	2. Fumble

~.~

"Nothing is infallible. Angels make mistakes."

"Shut your cake hole, Castiel."

"No-one blames-"

"I said _fuck off_ , Casti _el_."

Gabriel reined in the temper that had leaked out in the fierce snarl, folding it up in his Grace and trying to push it further inside of himself.

 _You_.

No-one blames _You_.

Gabriel swallowed the unnecessary barb that was volleyed to his tongue by the younger angel's displeased breath.

No-one.

No-one blames you. Dean doesn't blame you.

 _Well I blame me. And Sam would too. Even if he'd never say it_.

"Just go."

He didn't turn around, refusing to look to see whatever expression was on the wayward angel's face. That stoic, even expression drove him to despair. The depth of caring he'd developed over his years with the bloody Winchesters was sickening. The expression with those wide, trusting eyes. The one of _mindless_ belief that God's Plan was _Good and Just_. Or worse; sympathy, pity. No. He didn't turn to see it, whatever it was.

After a moment the door squeaked, and then it closed. Gabriel swallowed down the inordinate fury rising in his very being. Anger would do him no good now if he let it loose. The strength it lent him was useful, the energy less so. It was with a steel will that he continued to sit, still as a sculpture perched atop the table, across the room from the bedside. Castiel would be better served wherever Dean was. The older Winchester would get here soon enough, and when he did Gabriel would leave.

He had no intention of picking up the pieces of Dean that shattered upon seeing the brother he'd raised lying pale upon the stained shack mattress. That would be Castiel's job, Castiel's right as their third-wheel.

It wasn't for Gabriel. He'd never belonged with them and today he'd proved it.

A heartbeat of a slip, a fumble.

It was all it took.

 _And_ _what it took_.

It didn't matter if the others didn't blame him. But they would. Dean would. This was Gabriel's doing. He was the powerful Archangel who'd dropped the ball for less than the blink of Sam's eye.

And now those eyes were closed and Gabriel was angry and Dean would be… Dean would be less volatile if Gabriel wasn't there.

He'd never belonged. And whether today had happened or not, he still wouldn't. Sam would never say so, even if Dean might. They obviously had an unspoken deal, assigning themselves an ex-member of the God Squad each to try and guide along the lawless path. Dean had dibs on Castiel years ago. Sam was stuck with him. He'd placed a trust in Gabriel that was both surprising and yet not, if you really knew Sam Winchester at all. Sam had always been the brother Gabriel favoured.

And he'd failed him.

The worst part was knowing that if Sam were sitting with him looking over the ruins of their foiled hunt, he'd tell Gabriel it wasn't his fault. He'd tell him these things happened. He'd tell him it was the risk of a Hunter, the sacrifice they all signed up for. He'd say so even if part of him believed it was all bullshit.

But the fact of the matter was that he _wasn't_ sitting next to Gabriel. He was lying in that bed, everything that made him _him_ missing. Pale, still as the grave. Gabriel hated to feel the cracking in his ribcage at the sight.

That was why Gabriel wouldn't turn to watch his younger brother leave the room, and it was why he wouldn't stay when Dean arrived. It was why he sat atop the table instead of in the empty chair between the two rusted bed frames.

Because they'd see what Gabriel could feel on his own skin; the yearning for Sam to be sitting beside him and saying all of those things, true or not, and the splintered way Gabriel felt because he couldn't.

"Really fucked up this time, Samshine." he told the silence in the room, "You were right. I should have listened. I should have- should have _waited_."

He pulled his knees up under his chin, feeling for the first time the true fear of humanity, the open-water emptiness of being completely alone. His eyes were hot and wet and his chest was tight. His voice was faded, washed out, worn.

"I'm so sorry, Sam. Please come back."

~.~


End file.
